


In Desperate Need of Some Service

by newbie93



Series: First-Class Service [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Less Than 5K, The FitzSimmons Network, Tumblr Exchange, Waiter/Waitress AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons has been sleeping with her best friend going on three months. Unfortunately, her initial rationalization for having Fitz serve as her friend-with-benefits flies out the window once she realizes that she’d quite like having him as an actual boyfriend instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Desperate Need of Some Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucyrinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyrinner/gifts).



> This is a fic written for the, "More Than That, Less Than 5K," exchange on Tumblr. 'Tis a gift for the wonderful lucyrinner whose prompt was, “Restaurant AU where they’re both servers and best friends, but they secretly love each other.”
> 
> I don't REALLY think this story is worthy of the ol' M rating. It's more like a High T because there are really just vague allusions more than anything, but I figured better safe than sorry.

_Today’s the day. Today you’re going to lay it all out on the table. You’re going to be honest with him and you will not let yourself get distracted._

The words become a mantra as Jemma walks through the door of _The Iliad_ and heads towards the back room to punch in her time card. Other than May and Coulson, she’s the only one in the restaurant so far, something she’s grateful for because it means she’ll have a few extra moments to think. 

She grabs the handle to the door marked, _**EMPLOYEES ONLY** , _and pushes it open as her mind continues to work the problem she’s been ruminating over for the past week. 

Jemma barely has one foot through the door before a pair of hands is grabbing her waist, tugging her further into the room and spinning to press her against the wall as Fitz’s mouth crashes into hers.

She hears the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place but it’s faint, drowned out by the groans coming from Fitz and the panting breaths that are ripped from her throat as his mouth latches onto her throat. She moans at a particularly heated swipe of the tongue along the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and moves her hands so that she can card them through Fitz’s hair. 

She’d learned almost immediately how truly amazing Fitz’s mouth and hands are, and lets herself be distracted by the patterns that his tongue is now tracing along her collarbone. In the next second his teeth are nipping along the taut skin of her throat and Jemma has to bite her lip to stop herself from being too loud and drawing the attention of the other restaurant employees that are surely arriving now. It takes all of her energy to focus on staying quiet and the expended energy reminds her of her initial intention for the day. 

Her earlier thoughts come back to her suddenly and she somehow manages to choke out a breathy, “Fitz,” in between the whimpers. 

She both hears and _feels_ the way that he reacts to the sound and struggles to keep her legs from falling out beneath her when he shifts slightly and does something that makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

“ _Jemma._ ” 

Her own name is rasped against her throat as Fitz presses into her and Jemma can’t quite make herself fulfill her earlier promise to stay focused and not let herself be distracted. Instead, she cants her hips to meet Fitz’s and tugs his mouth away from her neck so that she can crash her lips into his. 

Whatever thoughts she’d initially had coming into work fly from her mind as Fitz’s hands begin to wander, dipping beneath her uniform and leaving trails of heat where his fingers drag along her skin, and Jemma shuts her eyes with a gasp as she lets herself fall into oblivion. 

When they walk out of the break room twenty minutes later, Fitz adjusting his bow tie and Jemma carefully touching up her lipstick, she can’t help but note that she’d only been successful with a third of her earlier mantra. 

She’d _definitely_ laid it all out on the table. 

-O-

 It had started about four months after they’d both managed to find jobs as servers at the restaurant. They’d been the only ones left after a long night, stuck doing inventory in the storeroom as they passed around the half-empty bottle of wine that May had handed off to them with a wink and a, “Customer already paid for it, _someone_ might as well enjoy it.” 

They’d begun the process exchanging their usual barbs and jokes, conversation ebbing and flowing as they broached every topic on the spectrum, but by the end of the evening an alcohol-filled Jemma had begun lamenting the fact that her dating life had become non-existent since starting her second PhD and new job. Fitz had nodded along, agreeing that having a genius-level intellect and a strong work ethic wasn’t exactly conducive for relationships more _romantic_ in nature. 

Jemma had sighed in exasperation at that before launching into a rant about how a relationship was _not_ something she was looking for. She wasn’t seeking a life partner and she wasn’t looking for someone to take her to nice restaurants. She didn’t care much about that stuff, what she _did_ care about were the biological needs that had fallen to the wayside since her schedule had become so busy. 

Fitz had let out a slight hum of agreement, which of course started her in on a rather detailed description of the benefits that certain _physical activities_ could have on one’s productivity. The tangent had ended with Jemma sighing wistfully and jokingly saying, “Let’s just say that it’s been awhile and I’m in _desperate_ need of some service.” 

The next thing Jemma knew, Fitz was crossing the small space between them and fusing his lips to hers in a kiss that had instantly turned her legs to gelatin. She didn’t even have time to process the fact that her closest friend was now kissing her before her hands were moving to divest him of his uniform. 

Their hands flew over their respective clothes, buttons popping and clasps unsnapping, and in the next moment, Jemma’s bare chest was pressed against Fitz’s as they rocked together against the freezer door, her nails leaving marks on his back and his lips leaving marks on her neck. 

They’d collapsed against the floor with panting breaths and slight tremors running through the lengths of their bodies, shivering from the aftershocks of the pleasure they’d just experienced. Jemma had been too stunned, in more ways than one, during the moment of post-coital bliss to do anything other than turn to Fitz with a raised brow after they’d both gained control of their breathing. He’d looked back at her, blue eyes boring into hers, with a smug grin and a cocky, “Happy to be of service,” that had immediately caused Jemma to shift, straddling his lap and demanding another round.

-O- 

The events of that first night had occurred nearly two months ago and had quickly become the norm for Jemma and Fitz. 

They shoot each other lascivious grins and not-at-all subtle winks while bypassing each other on the restaurant floor, and wait for any moment of free time to exchange heated kisses in whatever dark corner they can find. 

They make-out behind the lockers in the break room, grope each other under the fire escape in the alley adjoining the restaurant, and strip down whenever an opportunity arises. 

It’s actually a bit thrilling and Jemma finds that each passing day she’s becoming more and more eager to spend less time alone at home and more time with Fitz in the restaurant. 

As, “FitzSimmons,” they’ve been Employees of the week going on two months now, May and Coulson viewing their willingness to take the dreaded closing shifts as a sign of dedication rather than what it actually is: two people with a seemingly insatiable desire to spend as much time as possible debauching every surface of the break room. 

Because said debauchery _only_ occurs at work. 

It’s an unspoken stipulation, an invisible line that had been drawn that first night in a bid to keep the two of them in check. Their heated exchanges never leave the walls of _The_ _Iliad_ and _never_ end with cuddling or murmured whispers of affection. They have mind-blowing sex, then they have _more_ of it _,_ and by the time they exit the restaurant and lock the building, they’ve already reverted back into their roles as best friends, bickering about the latest Dr. Who episode and grilling each other about their respective PhD theses. 

Whatever _this_ is, it’s not a relationship. 

Unfortunately, somehow during the afternoons spent lounging at Fitz’s apartment and skimming through research, and the nights spent bent over the break room table with her skirt pooled around her ankles, Jemma had managed to fall for her best friend.

This isn’t a relationship, but lately Jemma is wishing that it were. 

-O- 

As difficult as it is to admit such a thing to herself, it’s about a million times harder trying to work up the courage to admit it to _Fitz_. 

The complete and utter failure of her first attempt makes Jemma think that some more intense preparation might be in order, so she spends 45 minutes ignoring the lecturer that she could talk circles around and focuses on jotting notes about the best way to go about confessing to Fitz. 

She’s quick to decide that attempting to tell him at work would be futile considering it apparently only takes one searing kiss from him to distract her completely and leave her in a puddle of desire. With this in mind, she comes to the conclusion that the only logical place to broach the subject is at _his_ place. 

He lives alone in a single bedroom, which is a far preferable environment to her own chaotic apartment. Her roommate Skye, as wonderful as she is, had been a little _too_ eager when Jemma had drunkenly confessed to her growing feelings for Fitz, and would no doubt try to interfere with some sort of scheme if Jemma were to bring the man in question to their shared space. 

So now they’re sitting on his old couch on their day off, her head in his lap as he absentmindedly runs his hands through her hair, watching Netflix like the couple they _aren’t,_ and taunting Jemma with the potential that they could have. She sees countless weekends in their future, spent doing the exact same thing they’re doing now but broken by the occasional kiss and murmured words of affection. 

Her heart races at the visual and she shifts slightly on the couch so that she’s staring up at Fitz. His eyes are fixed on the television and Jemma revels in the opportunity to simply study him. She’s always thought him to be boyishly handsome but each day since their first _interaction_ she’s discovering that she actually finds him to be positively stunning. The stubble on his face accentuates the sharp lines of his jaw and his azure eyes could put most of the world’s oceans to shame. 

After a minute of silent staring, Fitz glances down at Jemma and gives her a soft smile that makes her want to confess everything immediately. She opens her mouth to do just that but then the buzzer rings and Fitz’s smile widens as he yells, “Pizza!” 

They spend the rest of the evening doing what they always do when they’re not in the restaurant:chat amicably, watch movies, and eat as much pizza as they can. 

Jemma keeps her mouth shut and Fitz remains completely unaware of her growing desire to reach out, tip the scales, and shift their dynamic. 

-O- 

The next time she tries to tell him, they’re sitting together on the bus to _The Iliad,_ heads bent over a notebook and mouths moving rapidly in heated whispers as they discuss the joint research that they’d been doing. 

At one point Fitz shifts his arm so that it’s wrapped around her shoulders, giving her more room to lean over and peruse their notes, and an elderly woman sitting across from them gives them a soft smile and tells them that they make a lovely couple. 

Jemma smiles and is actually about to _thank_ the woman when Fitz starts choking on thin air and vehemently insisting that they’re _just friends._ He hastily retracts his arm and places his hands in his lap before turning towards Jemma with a red face and a mumbled, “Don’t know what she’s going on about.” 

He turns his head back to the notebook and remains silent as his eyes scan the heavily marked pages. Jemma glances over towards the older woman and wonders how a complete stranger could see something in them that Fitz is blind to. She _wants_ people to compliment them on being a cute couple. She wants Fitz to leave his arm around her shoulder and lean close to her without needing an excuse. 

More than anything, she wants to just _tell him_ this. 

“Fitz?” 

He doesn’t look up from the notebook, instead humming in response and tilting his head _slightly_ in acknowledgment of her questioning tone. 

“What if we…” 

Fitz’s eyes finally glance up in her direction at her soft tone and his brows furrow slightly as he takes in the sight of her biting her lip, overcome with nerves. He shifts slightly in his seat, turning to face her fully, and Jemma feels her bravery begin to slip away. 

“What if we what Jemma?” 

_What if we weren’t **just friends.** What if we **were** a couple?_

“What if we…” He’s looking at her, eyes boring into her own and causing her courage to flee completely. She sighs slightly and quickly alters the trajectory of her sentence as she moves her finger to point at something in the small notebook. “…were to recalibrate the bullet so that more of the dendrotoxin could fit?” 

This starts Fitz off on a long-winded tangent in which he details all of the reasons why such a suggestion is impossible. He’s giving her an odd look as his mouth moves rapidly, and Jemma just nods along, pretending to listen to what he’s saying while _actually_ chastising herself for being such a complete and utter chicken. 

-O- 

The _next_ time she tries to tell him, they’re in her too small kitchen, Fitz sitting on the counter next to her elbow as she tries to salvage Skye’s attempt at dinner. The other girl had run to the grocery store to get a pre-cooked chicken, “ _Just_ in case your science voodoo doesn’t work this time Jemma,” and had left the two of them alone to speculate how anyone could actually burn _pasta._

They’re chatting jovially with each other, Fitz munching on a bag of crisps as Jemma extracts the formless blob from the pot, and in between jokes at Skye’s expense, Jemma is overwhelmed by the complete and utter domesticity of the situation. She wants to bask in the normalcy of it all. It’s as though they’ve done this a million times, which they _have,_ and Jemma is once again struck with a panging desire to do it a million times more. She wants to chat effortlessly with the man beside her, as she always has, and exchange kisses, as they _never_ have, in her home while cooking dinner. 

She pauses her hands midair as they hover over the destroyed dinner and turns slightly so that she can look up at Fitz from where he’s perched beside her. She blinks for a moment as her eyes roam over his face, gaze flicking towards his mouth more times than is appropriate for mere friends with benefits, and feels her resolve strengthen. 

Jemma opens her mouth, the words forming in her mind as she prepares to let them out… and promptly snaps it shut when the front door slams open and jolts her from her reverie. 

Skye barges into the apartment, vocally complaining about the horrors of grocery stores on Sundays, and Jemma quickly turns her attention back to the pot in front of her, actively avoiding Fitz's questioning stare and desperately hoping that Skye won't notice the redness of her cheeks. 

-O- 

After another week of false starts Jemma finally just blurts it out late at night after Fitz is finished mapping her skin with his tongue and she is finished _letting_ him. 

She’s biting her lip, watching as he tugs his trousers over his legs and begins the process of buttoning his starch, if slightly disheveled, shirt. The sight causes something to pang through her, a mixture of hurt and longing, and Jemma finally snaps, no longer capable of keeping her emotions in check and no longer willing to maintain this routine that she now feels stuck in. 

“I think we should stop this.” 

Fitz fumbles with a button on his shirt as his head snaps up and his eyes focus on hers. His brows furrow for a brief moment and he tilts his head to look at her in confusion before speaking up.

“What do you mean? Stop what?”

His face is adorable and the thought makes Jemma that much more certain that this is the right thing to do. This conversation is long overdue and she’s tired of chickening out every time he looks at her with the blue eyes that she’d happily drown in. 

“This. I think we should stop… _this._ ” 

She gestures between them, arching an eyebrow as she loops her arms through her previously discarded bra, and holds her breath as she waits for his reaction. 

His hands still where they’re wrapped around the last button on his shirt and Jemma sees something flicker across his face for a brief moment before he ducks his head and kneels to tie his shoe. She shrugs on her own shirt as he does and waits him out, knowing that Fitz can really only keep quiet for so long. 

When he finally _does_ speak, Jemma instantly wishes he hadn’t. 

“Okay…If that… if that’s what you want, then we’ll stop.” 

She stares at him in stunned silence for a moment, watching as he carefully double-knots his laces, and feels herself begin to tremble at his non-reaction. When he finally does look up again and sees whatever expression is on her face, Fitz stands with a shrug that causes Jemma to remove the distance between them in three strides. 

“That’s _it?!_ You’re not even going to ask _why?_ You don’t even care enough to _try_ and get me to change my mind?” 

Her voice immediately betrays every emotion she’s currently feeling. It’s laced with surprise, hurt, and anger, and Fitz’s eyebrows get closer to his hairline with each word that leaves her lips. When she’s done throwing out her questions it’s only silent for a moment before Fitz is stepping closer, face red from who knows what, and staring at her incredulously. 

“ _What?!_ What is there to fight about?If you don’t want to have sex, that’s your choice. I’m certainly not going to _force_ you to. Jesus, Jemma.” 

She hates the way that he’s able to effortlessly turn the tables on her and crosses her arms in anger as she stares him down. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

Fitz raises his arms and runs his hands through his hair as he backs away slightly and begins gesticulating wildly. “No I don’t! I _never_ know what you mean when it comes to this stuff.”

This causes Jemma to pause and take a moment to try and understand what he’s getting at. She can only silence herself for a few short seconds before taking a step closer to Fitz and asking him to clarify. 

“What _stuff?_ ” 

He scoffs at the question, rolling his eyes in a way that makes Jemma’s blood boil, and quickly motions between the two of them as his face grows redder by the second 

“This! You and me. I’ve followed your lead from the beginning! You went on and on and _on_ about _needing servicing_ so I did just that!” 

He’s looming over her now, his few extra inches giving him just enough height to make her feel unsettlingly small, but Jemma doesn’t let it phase her in the least. She steps closer so that they’re chest to chest and raises her voice to match the volume of his. 

“Well I don’t _need servicing_ anymore Fitz. I need _someone,_ I need someone in here _and_ out there.” 

She nods her head in the direction of the door and raises her hands in defeat as she does. Fitz stares at her for a few tense moments before moving closer and speaking approximately four octaves higher than usual. 

“You spent twenty minutes talking about how you weren’t interested in anything other than something to _take care of your biological needs_ Jemma _._ You said you didn’t want a relationship!" 

She takes a step forward and can feel her face growing redder as her throat becomes raw from the words that are pouring out of it. 

“I _didn’t._ I didn’t want a relationship when I was thinking about the potential candidates _for_ a relationship but… but at that point I’d never stopped to consider being in a relationship with _you_.” 

Fitz gives out a humorless laugh at this as he steps away from her and nods as his expression shifts into something that Jemma’s not sure she’s ever seen before. “Right. Course you didn’t.” 

Jemma groans at her inability to get him to understand what she’s saying and hastily moves to stand in front of the door when she sees his eyes flicker in its direction. She knows he’s looking for an escape route but doesn’t plan on giving him one until she manages to say what she’s been trying to for the past few weeks. 

“Fitz you don’t get it! I’d never _dreamed_ about a relationship with you, the thought honestly never crossed my mind. I said I didn’t want a relationship with _anyone_ and I meant it.” 

“Yes I _get it_ Simmons. You don’t have to keep…” 

She cuts him off before he can finish and steps forward so that she can grab his hand in her own, clutching at it desperately as she struggles to make him understand. 

“I didn’t want a relationship with _anyone_ because I think I really just wanted a relationship with _you.”_

Fitz’s mouth falls open at this, shock written across his face, and Jemma barrels forward before he says or does anything that might stop her from actually finishing this sudden confession.

“We love the same things, we’re intellectually _and_ physically compatible with one another and… you just… you make me feel nice. Happy.” 

She swallows at the look he gives her and tries her best not to cry when Fitz extracts his hands from hers and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“What are you saying Jemma?” 

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes in a bid to stave off the tears before opening them once more and staring at Fitz with as much honesty as she can muster. 

“I… I’m saying that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed what we’ve been doing for the past few months, truly I have, but… but I want more. I want to hold your hand at lunch, I want to be able to say thank you when little old ladies tell us we look cute together, and I want to make fun of sci-fi movies with you in the theatre. I want to sleep with you at night and wake up with you in the morning, I want more than a quick screw in the break room Fitz.” 

The words come out in a rush and when she’s finally finished speaking, Jemma is left breathless. She keeps her eyes fixed on Fitz’s face, waiting for the moment where her words fully register. He blinks a few times before looking up with a neutral expression that causes Jemma’s heart rate to double.

“Okay… and if… if I _don’t_ want all that?” 

His words feel like a million knives to the chest and Jemma takes a steadying breath as she tries to reel in her despair enough to respond. It takes her longer than she would have liked but when she’s finally confident that her voice won’t break as she speaks, she looks up at Fitz and sighs before responding to his hesitant question. 

“Then give me a week of no contact so that I can wallow with Skye, Ben, and Jerry. Let me figure myself out and then we’ll go back to being the very best of friends… just… minus the benefits.” 

She moves towards the door, hand gravitating to the knob, but Fitz copies her earlier move and places his body in front of the of it, blocking her from the exit. She has nowhere to go but the tears are burning at the back of her eyelids and she doesn’t want Fitz to see her cry so she keeps her eyes focused on the missed button of his shirt. 

“And if I _do_ want that? If I’ve wanted all that from the very first time I saw you and have wanted it everyday since… what umm… what then?” 

Jemma’s breath catches in her throat as she looks up into Fitz’s unblinking eyes. Her eyes roam over his face for a moment, seeking any indication that he might be messing with her, but all she sees is an expression of complete and utter sincerity. Her mouth opens and closes a few times in shock and the movement causes Fitz to shift forward and reach for her hands, loosely grasping them in his own as he tilts his head in question. 

The look he’s giving her is so hopeful, as if _he’s_ the vulnerable one in this situation, and Jemma can’t stop the watery laugh that leaves her throat. She thinks that her tears are finally threatening to spill over but she doesn’t fight the beaming smile that is making its way across her face as she tightens her fingers around Fitz’s and steps closer to him. 

“If you _do_ want that…then… then we go for it. We do all the stuff we do already but do it as a _couple. You_ take me to dinner and, if all goes well, _I_ take you to bed. An _actual_ bed, Fitz. With a pillow and a blanket and a…” 

Fitz’s lips are pressed against hers before she can describe the potential wonders of a tempur-pedic mattress and Jemma smiles against his mouth as she wraps her arms around him. He lifts her slightly off the ground and Jemma can’t stop the laugh that breaks free when he spins her around and nearly topples over after miscalculating their momentum 

When they come to a halt, Fitz pulls back slightly, soft smile seemingly glued to his face, and Jemma can’t help stepping forward again to wrap her arms tightly around his middle.

They’re silent for a few moments before Jemma can both hear and _feel_ the chuckle make its way through Fitz’s body and she grins when he shifts slightly to exasperatingly whisper, “A _bed… really_? As if _that_ is the selling point to being in a relationship with you,” into her ear. 

She pulls back, tilting her head to stare up at him while cushioning her chin on his chest, and lets a coquettish smile make its way across her face. 

“We have a pretty impressive track record here in the break room. Just _think_ of what we could do if we expanded the parameters a bit and took advantage of being somewhere _other_ than our place of work. A _bed_ Fitz. Think about it.” 

Jemma can see the cogs begin to churn in his mind and bites her lip in an attempt to hide her smile when she notes the glazed look that is now on Fitz’s face. She has to stifle a laugh at the knowledge that telling Fitz to think about something means that he will undoubtedly _think about it_ , and takes advantage of his stupor to grab his hand and tug him towards the exit. 

They’re out of the restaurant, Jemma having dutifully locked up upon leaving, and halfway down the block before Fitz seems to snap out of his stupor and yank Jemma towards him as he crashes his lips to hers. After a seemingly endless moment, the need to breathe becomes too much and Jemma pulls back with a gasp and wide eyes. 

Fitz is grinning down at her and she’s about to ask him what that particularly steamy kiss was for but he cuts her off before she can get the words out. 

“I like being able to do that outside of the restaurant.” 

Her responding smile is instantaneous and she stands on her toes to press chaste kisses to every inch of his face that she can reach. When she lands back on her heels, Fitz’s smile is just as wide as hers and seems to double in size when she breathlessly says, “Me too.” 

They stand in the middle of the sidewalk for a few long moments before Jemma’s smile turns mischievous and she turns to walk away from her best-friend turned boyfriend. She turns over her shoulder and briefly takes note of his puzzled expression before calling out, “Come on Fitz, I bought a new mattress last week,” and facing forward again with a grin. 

It’s silent for a few seconds before Jemma hears the sound of hurried footsteps and she lets out an undignified squeal when Fitz wraps his arms around her from behind and all but growls in her ear. 

“Oh really? What a coincidence, I just so happen to be in _desperate_ need of some service.” 

Jemma groans at her past words and rolls her eyes when Fitz laughs in her hair. The irritation doesn’t last long though because in the next instant, Fitz is shifting so that his arm is wrapped around his shoulder and hers is wrapped around his waist. 

Falling into bed with Fitz that night confirms Jemma’s assumption that their physical prowess would only intensify outside of the confines of the dark break room in the back of the restaurant. 

Waking up with him the next morning confirms that her best friend in the world is decidedly more than that. 

As it turns out, for Jemma Simmons, having Fitz as a boyfriend is about a million times better than having him any other way.


End file.
